Dover Cliff
From “King Lear,” Act IV. Sc. 6.
COME on, sir; here ’s the place: stand still!
How fearful
And dizzy ’t is, to cast one’s eyes so low!
The crows and choughs that wing the midway air
Show scarce so gross as beetles: half-way down
Hangs one that gathers samphire,—dreadful trade!
Methinks he seems no bigger than his head:
The fishermen, that walk upon the beach,
Appear like mice; and yon tall anchoring bark,
Diminished to her cock; her cock, a buoy
Almost too small for sight: the murmuring surge,
That on the unnumbered idle pebbles chafes,
Cannot be heard so high.—I ’ll look no more;
Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight
Topple down headlong.